


The First of September

by Slumber



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-21
Updated: 2011-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:08:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26381653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slumber/pseuds/Slumber
Summary: Everyone worries about their first day.
Collections: 30-minute Writer's Block Challenge





	The First of September

"Come on, Theodore."

Theodore glanced back at his room, the lone four-poster that lay stark and staid against a backdrop of propriety: simple dark wooden furniture, clean and tidied belongings. His trunk had been moved long ago, and the Floo station would be packed very soon.

"Theodore, you mustn't keep your father waiting."

He glanced up at his Mrs. Whitaker and gave her a slight nod. Her hair was white as the feathers of the Malfoy peacocks, forehead and cheeks as wrinkled as the raisins that his father had the elves bake into their morning bread. The corner of her eyes crinkled with the mark of crows' feet, and her eyes themselves were misty grays fogged by age, but he never felt as though she missed anything when it came to him, and when she smiled at him, close-mouthed, to hide the teeth she'd lost and refused to replace, it came with the kindness of a mother.

Or what he imagined a mother's kindness might be, at least.

"What if--" he began, hesitating to voice that which had plagued his nightmares for the last few months. "I don't want to go," he said instead.

"You must, dear," she murmured. "Your letter came and everything. You've got your books and your robes all fitted. You've many more to learn, and you must learn them at Hogwarts."

Theodore frowned. "I don't care. Why can't I just stay here and learn everything from you?" She was patient, Mrs. Whitaker was. Once, when he decided he didn't like to hear about the Knights of Walpurgis and all of their sworn duties and mission, she sat outside the cupboard he'd crawled into, and with a voice as old as time, in a tone so soft he could barely hear through the thin wooden door, she began to tell him the story of an Order, a special group of courageous witches and wizards who were as clever as they were brave, as cunning as they were loyal. She wove a tale of love and war and battles and triumphs, her voice growing softer with every plot, until at last he poked his head out and demanded she finish the rest of it in the study. (He realized, just then, how crafty Mrs. Whitaker had been as well. How could his professors ever compare?)

"You know your father prefers you be educated with your peers," she said. "You mustn't make him wait."

He had half a mind to refuse, to throw his arms around Mrs. Whitaker's waist and cling to her skirt. It was what he truly wanted to do, and he knew his father would have a right fit if he did that, but that wouldn't be fair to Mrs. Whitaker, who'd done nothing but take care of him since his father hired her just five years ago. Before that, there had only been Mimsy--and here Theodore swallowed the guilty lump that rose in his throat--for Mimsy might have still been around. Theodore adored her too, followed her around while she did all of her master's errands, asked her to tell him elves' stories. But he adored her too much, his father had decided, and even though it was Theodore who had spilled his father's wine at one of his parties, and even though it was Theodore who--knowing he'd done something terribly wrong--proceeded to wail and bang his head against the nearest wall to punish himself, it was Mimsy who received all the blame.

As Mrs. Whitaker glanced at the clock on his bedroom wall, her tiny fingers smoothing out her immaculately smooth skirt, her smile strong and unfaltering until it reached her eyes, Theodore knew then that if he continued to be stubborn it would be Mrs. Whitaker's fault and not his.

"All right," he said finally, picking up his wand (ash with unicorn hair, 11 inches) and holding onto it tight. "I'm ready."

"Don't worry, Teddy," Mrs. Whitaker murmured as he passed her by, her words as soft as the day she coaxed him out of the lowest shelf of the biggest bookcase in his father's library. "The Hat will Sort you where you need it to."

Theodore caught her gaze. She pressed a tender kiss to his temple and said nothing more.

Her words were still ringing loud and strong in his ear when the Hat was placed upon his head.

"Slytherin!"

**Author's Note:**

> Please consider donating to local organizations who support trans individuals in your area.


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